


Forget

by AngelynMoon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Grief/Mourning, Lies, M/M, Mpreg, Sacrifice, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Self-Sacrifice, not sure what else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-07 17:22:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19856071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelynMoon/pseuds/AngelynMoon
Summary: Somewhere along the line Harry and Tom/Voldemort fell in love. If only it were that simple.





	Forget

It was easier to forget. Forget the lies, the secret touches, the sneaking, the whispered words.

It was easier to forget, force himself to not remember the way the other had made him feel, the rush, the safety, the lo-, no, forget, don't think about it.

Sometimes he lies to himself, tells himself it wasn't real, that it was all lies and manipulation..., but it was him who knew the truth, who told lie after lie with each caress.

He tells himself that it was fake, the he could never feel what he felt, that the words he'd whispered in his ear when they touched and danced and kissed were just honeyed words, lies..., he tells himself that none of it was real.

Tells himself that the other man wasn't capable of feeling so deeply, of caring for him, that he wasn't capable of loving him, not like he loved the other.

And yet...., and yet.

He tried to forget that day. Tried to forget the look on the other's face when he'd revealed the truth, the anger, rage, and the devastation before it had vanished beneath the mask of indifference.

And Harry had forced himself not to think about the whispered promises that he'd known were empty because how could he be Tom's consort if he was dead. 

Every promise made spoke of after Potter's death and how could any be kept when he was the one Tom wished dead 

But Harry had taken each moment, each touch, knowing that eventually he'd lose them. He'd listened to each promise, tucked them away into his heart and wished it was possible, wished that, for once, he could have what he wanted.

But he couldn't, 'Neither could live while the other survived' after all.

And so he'd walked into the Forest, walked to Tom, who wore his Voldemort face and Harry had had his own glamour hiding him.

Tom had been shocked, surprised and then when Harry had dropped the glamour Tom had been angry.

Harry had deserved it, deserved every curse Tom sent him in that fight.

And there had been a moment when Harry had known he was losing, known that his death was coming, it was inevitable really, he was only seventeen, half-trained and unwilling really, unwilling to kill the man, monster some would argue, but they had not been held in Tom's arms when they woke from a nightmare, they had not been promised that none would harm him again, promised protection and safety, no.

Yes, Harry had been quite willing to die at the hands of the man he'd fallen in love with.

He should have known better, should have known that Tom would not allow it, that even as enemies Tom would keep his promises to him. 

Harry hadn't even meant to hit Tom when he cast the spell, had expected Tom to dance out of the way as he'd done for all the others, except...except...

And then it'd been over.

Voldemort was dead and Harry was alive, or, well he was breathing but his insides felt scraped up and raw and Tom was dead and dust and there were screams and cries of joy all around him but all Harry had felt was broken and sad.

There'd been tears on his face that everyone took for relief and joy but no one had stopped him when he'd left, too taken by their own celebrations as he'd made his escape to where he and Tom had always met.

The little house was the same, everything just waiting for it's master's return, only he wouldn't be returning.

And Harry had crawled into the bed that he'd spent so much time in and curled around Tom's pillow, which still held his scent and Harry had mourned for his loss as celebrations carried through the night.

He'd given himself this one night to himself, this one night of pity and tears and might have beens, one night of if onlys. 

Then he'd pulled on a mask of joy, pulled his Golden Boy, Boy-Who-Lived persona about himself like a cloak and had spoken to every reporter about the losses, about rebuilding, about continuing on. He spoke to the newly elected Minister of Magic about several new policies, safeguards for magical children in muggle care, there should never be the chance for another Voldemort.

And somewhere amidst these talks Harry failed to notice the changes within himself, focused so on making the changes Tom had promised him, focused so on not remembering his own loss that the changes came as a shock.

He'd collapsed in the middle of a hearing, one of his bill about to be put to the Vote. He'd not been feeling well for several days, but there was so much to be done that he could not pause for a silly stomach flu.

They had rushed him to St. Mungo's where he'd been put through test after test, the Healers worried he'd been exposed to a slow acting spell during the battle.

No one had expected the results of the tests, not even Harry.

He'd burst out sobbing when they told him and they had asked, asked if it had been consensual, asked if he wanted to terminate, but how could he?

How could he even think about terminating his pregnancy, how could he even consider killing Tom's baby, the child they created together, even if it had been created through lies.

Harry had spent hours tucked in a private room, his hands over his slightly curved belly, beneath which his child, Tom's child was growing. He'd cried for hours, both with joy because he had something worth living for now, he still had a piece of hos love with him and in sorrow because Tom would never know about their child, would never know that by allowing Harry to kill him, because Harry knew that Tom could have moved out of his spell's way, he knew Tom had let him win, he'd been saving two lives, protecting their child by dying.

Harry wondered later, wondered quietly in the dark, stillness of St. Mungo's if Tom had known, if perhaps that was why he'd nearly begged Harry to stay away from the coming battle that last night they'd been together. Wondered if Tom knew that Harry carried their child and had made the choice to let them live even with the betrayal he must have been feeling.

And Harry forced himself not to cry, he was quite done with tears, thank you.

When the Healers returned with their questions Harry gave them what answers he could, but he fell silent when they asked after his partner.

His silence must have spoken volumes because they did not inquire after his child's father again, and when he looked iver the paperwork it merely stated deceased in every place he might have otherwise penned Tom's name.

Harry had wanted to forget, wanted to pretend that he wasn't feeling empty inside where Tom had benn and now..., now he couldn't, he had a tiny little reminder of the man he loved, a little thing they had created together.

He knew there were things that he'd never be able to tell their child, truths that would remain known only to himself but he still had a piece of Tom.

Something worth remembering for.

\---

A/n: just something i wrote out at, jeeze, it's 1:00am.

I just had a thought while i was doing stuff and wrote this....thing.

I hope you enjoyed or not. Thanks for reading.


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